


And Never Let Go

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [4]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the little things that matter. Takes place after my ficlet <i>Revered or Defamed and Decried</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Never Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> A wee ficlet written thanks to all those War of the Damned promo shots. Title from Marc Cohn's _Dig Down Deep_. Thanks to Steorie for the hair-combing ideas.

“I’m going to cut it all off,” Nasir yelled as he marched into the tent, dumping spear, sword, and armguards in his wake.

Agron looked up from his map and tried not to laugh at the angry man before him. He wasn’t bleeding, or wearing anyone else’s blood, so he wasn’t overly concerned.

“What are you going to cut off?” he asked.

“This,” Nasir said. He gestured to the back of his head and turned around.

Agron winced. Nasir’s hair had managed to get tangled in his shoulder guard. It explained the odd posture and the infuriated look on his face. 

“Agron, it’s knotted on one side and caught in my armor. It’s not worth it. I should just wear it like you and Spartacus do.”

Agron pointed to the ground before him. “Sit. I stole you something from that villa we raided.” He produced a two-sided ivory comb. “I suppose the wealthy wife or daughter of that home didn’t care enough to take this with her.”

Nasir sat and tried to turn his head but gave up when he couldn’t. “You waited until now to give this to me?”

“You left me to freeze in our bed alone,” Agron said. 

“Only after you went off on a raid without informing me first,” Nasir said. “You know better.”

“It was a prime opportunity. We had to replace some of the bedding after the goats ate it. We knew the villa was empty as we watched the family flee.” 

Agron knew Nasir was justified in his anger. Agron’s wrath would be worse if their positions reversed. He wanted to cling to his pride on this one but he could hear Duro in the back of his mind telling him to stop being a fucking idiot. 

“Apologies,” he said.

“Not accepted,” Nasir said. His shoulders stayed tense and Agron knew a frown was on that face.

“Will you if I carefully unknot and comb out this hair of yours? It would be such a tragedy to see it cut. After all, think of what Gannicus would say.” It was low to move Nasir’s ire from Agron to Gannicus, but he considered it good strategy.

“Probably something about a boy not being able to handle the hair of a man,” Nasir grumbled. He waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

Agron was taught from a young age how to manage the long hair of a warrior. It was the accepted hairstyle of his people. He’d thought about growing his own out again. The heat of these southern lands always changed his mind. 

He hunched over Nasir and inspected the hair stuck in the shoulder guard. Agron’s fingers weren’t delicate enough to untie the mess without losing a few strands to the cause. Nasir’s hiss was of annoyance, not anger. Agron had learned to differentiate for the sake of his own skin. It took longer than he planned; soon the hair gave way and he was able to unclasp the guard and let it drop to the ground.

“Thank the fucking gods,” Nasir said. He wriggled his shoulders and stretched out his arms. “That was far from comfortable.”

Agron pressed a kiss into the revealed skin. He could taste the sweat on Nasir, smell the grass from far too many hours training, and feel the heat coming off his flesh. No one could blame him when the kiss turned into a sucking bite.

“Agron, my hair,” Nasir said.

“Later?” Agron tried.

“And make the knot even worse?” Nasir turned his head and playfully licked a line from Agron’s neck to his temple. “Fix my hair now and then again later.”

Agron closed his eyes to that tempting grin. He was supposed to be plotting a safe route back to the mountains. He was supposed to attend a meeting later with Naevia over their supplies. He planned on doing none of it for the rest of the day. 

He sat back without a word and let Nasir revel in his victory. He carefully worked the comb through Nasir’s hair. Patience would be the only thing to see the knot undone without using a knife. 

“This is an unforeseen skill,” Nasir said.

Agron moved one section of hair over Nasir’s shoulder. He trailed his lips over the bare skin on the back of his neck and smiled when Nasir’s breath caught. He titled Nasir’s head to the side as he worked on the next section.

“How did you learn this?” Nasir asked, voice gone breathless.

“Despite what you have seen of us, most German men wear their hair long. We do the same with our beards. It marks us as warriors. Each clan has their own reasons and their own set of plaiting techniques.” He pulled Nasir’s head back and looked down into his eyes. “You have been trying to keep your hair like you knew how to treat a Roman’s. Working it straight with your fingers each morning and night and using what oil you could spare to do so, of course. That is not to be. You are a warrior now. It will get full of sweat, grime, blood, and it will always come back to this.” He tugged on the loose curls already forming. “You can’t keep it caged back like that.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Your own personal groomer,” Agron said. “We’ll do what you have been, pulling it away from your face. I’ll try the braids we used in my clan, if it will help. We should do a full braid but I like seeing the loose strands stuck to your skin.”

Nasir rolled his eyes. “And you think everything I do is to entice you?”

Agron shrugged. “I can hope so.” He put the comb to the side and ran his fingers down Nasir’s arms. “Am I forgiven?”

“Hmm,” Nasir hummed. He nuzzled the side of Agron’s face. “I suppose.”

He kissed behind Nasir’s ear. “Will you come to bed?”

“It is mid-day,” Nasir said.

Agron let his fingers wander down to the band of Nasir’s breeches. “I am open to the floor or our desk.”

“Save it for later,” Naevia said as she pulled back the flap of their tent. “We have a meeting.”

Agron glared at her. “Can it not wait?”

“Your balls will not shrivel up and die if you show restraint for one day,” Naevia said. She clapped her hands together. “I will not leave until you join me. Let’s go.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Agron muttered.

Nasir slapped his hands away. “Leave her be. She hasn’t been feeling well.” He stood and titled Agron’s chin up. “Later,” he promised. He tapped a finger across Agron’s lips. “No pouting. You can’t command our forces with a pout on your face.”

“I can and I will,” Agron said.

Naevia huffed. “Can we please go? You are not the only one who has better things to do this day.”

Nasir grinned. “Oh, she thinks I’m a better thing than supply meetings.”

Agron wrapped his arm around Nasir’s waist as the both followed Naevia out of the tent. “You are,” he promised.

“Not by much,” Naevia called back to them.

Agron tangled his fingers in Nasir’s hair and shared a secret smile with him. There would be time enough later. He would see it done.


End file.
